When Hell Freezes Over
by fendiaddickt
Summary: Hermione is sent to Azkaban to perform euthanasia treatments on convicted Death Eaters. What will she do when she finds out that the first in line is her worst enemy?“Fancy seeing you here Granger.”MMalfoy?"


"Welcome to Azkaban, state your name and purpose," the cool female voice drawled, bored as ever, from a gleaming silver speaker nestled into the stone wall just outside the prison grounds.

"Hermione Jean Granger, Head healer, executions," Hermione answered flatly, her voice void of any emotion.

"Thank you Healer Granger. Have a nice day."

A badge with Hermione's name on it appeared in front of her with a loud crack and she attached it to her dark purple Healer's robes. Since Voldemort's downfall, security at Azkaban had doubled. The new system had been modeled from the Ministry's previous security measures. All visitors were required to wear a badge proclaiming their identity, and all wands were magically prevented from casting any spells while inside the prison. This way, it would be next to impossible for any prisoner to escape.

Eager to get out of the muggy July air, Hermione stepped into the waiting elevator that would take her to the medical wing. As soon as she stepped inside, the steel doors slid shut and the elevator began to lower rapidly. She yawned and stretched. The balls of her feet throbbed painfully. She could feel the blisters forming already. The large medical bag she had slung over her shoulder was getting heavier and heavier by the minute, and she was working on less than three hours of sleep. It was already six and all she really wanted to do was go home.

Home, in this case, was Ginny's flat in London. Harry and Ron had left the previous day for an Auror's convention in Arabia. The two wouldn't be back for a week, and Hermione and Ginny had decided to use the time to their advantage: a week long sleepover. Last night, they'd stayed up watching Hermione's old muggle movies until three in the morning. Not a good idea, considering she had to work all day.

"Level seven, euthanasia department," the woman's voice droned. The large steel doors of the elevator slid open, revealing a long, dimly lit corridor. The floor, the walls, and the ceilings were made of dark limestone, and medieval looking chandeliers hung every fifty feet. It was such a dark and foreboding place, right out of a scene of a horror movie. She pitied the prisoners that had to walk, in chains, to their deaths down this passage, never being able to see the light of day again. _They could at least put a window or two in, for Merlin's sake! _She thought irritated as she turned into the floor office.

"Welcome to the Twilight Zone," came an amused voice from behind a desk stacked with files. His name was Duncan, and he worked at Azkaban full time, unlike Hermione who usually worked at St. Mungo's. Usually, the prison had plenty of it's own Healers to take care of death penalties, but there were so many sentences needing to be filled out lately, they'd called St. Mungo's and requested an extra Healer. Healers were the only doctors that were licensed to perform euthanasia treatment. Hermione had been here a couple of times before, and hated it more and more every visit. The reason she had been unlucky enough to return today was because she lost an Exploding Snaps game to a colleague of hers named Phoebe.

"Hello Duncan," she replied unenthusiastically, dumping her cloak over a chair. "How are you?"

"Better than you, obviously," the wizard joked, raising his balding head over mounds of paperwork. "Not pleased to see me?" His blue eyes twinkled, and happiness shone in every line of his aged face.

"When have I ever been pleased to see you?" she teased, smiling in spite of herself. She could always count on Duncan to lighten her mood. He really was a sweet old guy.

"You don't mean that!" he said, feigning surprise.

"No I'm quite serious. But don't worry," she said hastily, "It's not you. I have a very important date with my bed and a nice fluffy pillow lined up that I'd rather not miss."

"Understandable," he said, grinning. "Okay, today we're winding up on the Death Eaters. Sherman's got these three guys, so I'll give you the leftover one. If Sherman's not done by the time you are, I'll give you another," he said, handing her a thin file.

"Right," she said, taking the file from his wrinkled hand and tucking it under her arm. "See you in a few."

Her mood plummeting again, she grabbed her medical bag from the chair and left the office. Hermione made her way quickly to the euthanasia room. _Honestly, _she thought darkly_, how is this for irony? The Healer is the saver, not the killer! _But, every Healer had to do this from time to time.

'_It's a learning experience, Hermione!'_ Phoebe had trilled triumphantly. _'You should be grateful, you could be cleaning up puke in the Flu ward!'_ _Like pulling off a Band-Aid_ she assured herself. _It'll be over quick._

She entered the room marked Special Purposes Room #1. The room was just as gloomy as the corridor. The floor was made of stones, but instead of chandeliers, floating candles magically lit the room. They would all join together and create a spotlight on the cold, steel operating table in the middle of the room when it was time for the procedure to take place. The walls were also ancient stone, dark shades of grey. Three hard plastic chairs were pushed against the wall for the family of the criminal.

Hermione dumped her medical bag onto the counter in the far corner of the exam room. Muggles used the electric chair and lethal injections to kill criminals on death row, while wizards used their wands or complex potions. Since wands were not allowed in Azkaban, Hermione would be using the Draught of Living Death. Normally, the potion only puts the drinker into a very heavy sleep, but when given in large doses, it is fatal.

She washed her hands, rubbing so vigorously they turned red. _Calm down Hermione. It'll be over soon enough. _She wiped her hands with a towel and lowered herself into one of the hard plastic chairs. She began twirling the gleaming diamond engagement ring on her finger, as she often did when she was anxious.

Ron had proposed three months ago, and the wedding was in the spring, Hermione's favorite season. He had taken her to her favorite little Italian restaurant the night of their engagement. She'd had no inkling of his intended proposal, so she almost choked on her wine when he'd gotten down on one knee. The look on his face when she told him yes would forever be etched into her mind. She was very excited and she knew that she loved Ron, but small doubts lingered inside her. What if everything changed once they were married? What if she turned out to be a horrible wife? What if-

A loud knock came from the direction of the door, jolting Hermione from her thoughts. It was time. The dementors were bringing the criminal. She would have to take someone's life in the next few minutes. _They are Death Eaters, _she thought logically, trying to convince herself that this was right._ They've done horrific things... _

She heard the door creak open behind her. The temperature in the room dropped several degrees, and Hermione felt worse than ever in the presence of dementors. _This is it. I can do this. Don't make eye contact. You'll be fine. _She coached herself, rearranging her face so it did not betray her emotions. She turned slowly on the spot, her eyes cast down on the cold stone floor.

"J-Just put them on the t-table," she whispered. She felt the dementors glide past her and she followed the tattered hems of their cloaks with her eyes. Quickly, they bound the prisoner to the table and left, the door slamming loudly behind them.

Hermione made her way over to the counter and withdrew the Draught of Living Death. _Whoever it is must not have any family_ she thought, almost curious. _The family usually comes in with the victim._ Taking a deep breath, she faced the table and looked at the prisoner for the first time. She let out a clearly audible gasp in surprise.

"Fancy seeing you here Granger."

"M-Malfoy?" she asked, astounded as she allowed herself to stray from protocol. "What are you doing h-here?" she asked stupidly.

"I'm on death row Granger. I figured you'd know that," he said with a trace of his usual sneer.

For once, she didn't know what to say. She'd never expected to see Draco Malfoy here of all places. She knew he was in Azkaban, but not for one second had she ever thought he'd get the death penalty.

_He's never killed before…has he? _She gave him a quick look over. His once sleek blonde hair had lost its luster now hung unkempt around his face. He was very muscular, but he'd always had a nice body. Even she would admit that. His silvery eyes were dull and empty, like they'd been drained of all emotion. He just looked tired, and if she dared think it, scared.

"Listen Granger, mind if we get this over with? I've been mentally preparing myself for this all day, and this waiting is breaking my concentration," he sneered, his eyes closed.

Hermione nodded numbly. His attitude and appearance disturbed her. He was the same Draco Malfoy he'd been at Hogwarts, but yet, something was different. Years ago, she'd loved to have had this opportunity to end her enemy's life, but she'd never actually think she'd have to.

Thinking back, he'd never really done anything to deserve the death penalty besides being a Death Eater. He'd never killed, like his father or his Aunt Bellatrix, both of whom were already dead. _I wonder if Narcissa Malfoy is dead?_

"You don't have anyone that...um.. you want to be here with you when, well, you know-"

"No," he said flatly. "Both my parents are already dead. I have no friends. It's just me."

Hermione fell silent again. She fiddled with the cork on the bottle of potion, her hands shaking anxiously. It sloshed around in the clear glass bottle, a pearly blue.

_I can't! It's Draco Malfoy for Merlin's sake! She thought frantically. I didn't sign on for this! This is already humiliating enough from him as it is!_

"Not that I care that my father is dead. My father was a self- centered bastard. He never gave a shit about me. I'm glad he's dead," he murmured. "My mother treated me well enough. I was sorry to see her go."

She looked up, her chocolately brown eyes holding the penetrating gaze of his silver ones. They were almost transparent, like crystal orbs, and framed by long, abnormally dark lashes. The pearly grey contrasted strikingly with the black of his pupils. They held a something she'd never think that Draco Malfoy could possess. Compassion.

_Why did I never notice how beautiful his eyes are?_

"Do you feel bad for me, Granger?" Surprised at his question, she glanced nervously at him. He was looking at her expectantly, a smirk gracing his pale lips.

"Well I-"

"You do, don't you?" he asked, not breaking eye contact. It was a bit daunting. "I can see it in your eyes."

She looked down at her feet, slightly embarrassed. How could he read her so well? He didn't even know her!

"Don't feel sorry for me. I deserve this," he said finally, closing his eyes and laying his head back onto the cold metal of the table.

"What could you have possibly done to deserve death?" she blurted out, surprising even herself. She just couldn't help it. She had to know.

"Granger. I'm a Death Eater. Isn't that enough?" He lifted his head back off the surface and glared at her, like he was angry.

"The fact that you followed Voldemort does not mean that you should die," she snapped. His tone of voice had scared her. He sounded so utterly and completely defeated. He sounded like he'd given up, and that was the opposite of the Draco Malfoy she used to know.

"You really want to know Granger? Do you?" he snapped, piercing her again with the sharp gaze that made her feel naked.

"Yes."

"Fine!" he almost yelled. For a moment he looked as if he wanted break his bindings and hit her, but the next second he was leaning his head back against the cool metal and staring up at the ceiling. "Do you know Stan Shunpike?"

"Yes," she whispered, her stomach clenching. Stan was dead. He'd died years ago, before even the fall of Voldemort.

"Well, right before the final battle, he joined the Death Eaters. I have no idea why he did it, for the glory maybe. For his initiation, he was sent to kill Mad-Eye Moody. He was too weak. Moody was killed, but it wasn't by Stan." He stopped, and Hermione saw him swallow hard.

"The Dark Lord was furious when he learned that it had been Bellatrix that had done the deed, not Stan. When the Dark Lord is angry, people usually end up dying. Well, I was there when Stan was brought in. He was dragged into the Manor drawing room by my Aunt Bella; screaming and crying. The Dark Lord put a silencing charm on him," he said without feeling.

Hermione's stomach was clenched so tightly she could barely breathe. She was beginning to regret ever talking to him in the first place.

"He begged the Dark Lord to spare his life," he continued. "He promised he would do better next time. With the Dark Lord, there is no next time. He laughed in Stan's face and hit him with the Cruciatus Curse. The volume of his agony was almost unbearable. The Dark Lord told him he didn't want to waste his time killing him himself. He was Lord Voldemort, most powerful wizard of all time, he didn't have time to waste punishing worthless followers!" The pain in Draco's voice was apparent now.

"'Draco', he told me, 'Draco you failed your last task didn't you, boy? Why is it that you're here and Stan will not be in a few minutes?' I told him I didn't know. He laughed in my face and said this was my one chance to redeem myself, and if I failed again, he would kill me too." His eyelids shut once again, covering his mesmerizing silver irises. Hermione watched pearly tears stream silently out of the corners of his eyes. His lip was bleeding, he'd bit it so hard.

"He made me kill Stan Shunpike, Granger," he said, his voice wavering. "S-Stan pleaded with me not to do it. He begged me to refuse. But I couldn't. When the Dark Lord commands you to do something, you can refuse."

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth, swallowing a sob.

"I pointed my wand at his chest. I stared into his eyes as I whispered the Killing Curse. He kept begging me not to do it. His screams echo in my head to this very day. Have you ever seen the light of life in someone's eyes distinguish Granger?" Hermione shut her eyes and tried to even out her ragged breathing.

I have," he said in anguish. "Its haunted me since that day. Every night I've dreamed of that moment, I've killed him again every night for three years. I wish I would've just let Voldemort kill me. You have no idea how much I wish I could take it all back."

Tears were pouring down her cheeks. How horrible! She looked up at Draco and saw that he too was crying.

"Draco, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. Let's just do this," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I won't have to relive that day anymore once I'm dead."

Hermione nodded, fighting back more tears. She had no idea of what he'd been through. And he'd had to live with himself since then. Sure turned away, busying herself by uncorking the bottle so he wouldn't see her. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

She leaned forward, bringing the bottle toward his pale lips, her whole body trembling.

"Wait!" he said suddenly. She paused. "Granger? Could you maybe-er well..stay after you give me t-that?" he mumbled, averting his eyes.

"Of course," she assured him with a watery smile. "I'll be here till the end."

He appeared to relax, and leaned his head back, resting against the cool steel. "Thanks."

She lifted up the back of his head and helped him to drink the potion. At first, he choked on the bitter liquid, but he managed to keep it all down. After he finished, it would be only about a minute before he passed.

Hermione set the empty bottle on the ground and took Draco's hand in hers. It was warm and smooth, so much bigger than hers. He squeezed her hand tightly. Tears filled his pearly grey eyes, and she didn't bother to disguise hers anymore.

"I'm scared," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"It w-won't hurt," she murmured, "I won't leave you."

"Granger?" he asked, fighting to keep his eyes open. "I'm sorry about how I treated you at school. I was a arrogant son of a bitch, and you didn't deserve it."

"It's okay," she whispered, her throat closing up. She was sure she could feel her heart breaking.

He smiled at her, and she gripped his hand even tighter. The fear vanished from his eyes, and she felt his grip on her hand begin to loosen.

His eyes closed for the last time, and his hand went limp in hers. She was sobbing so hard she could barely stand. She laid her head down on his chest and heard his heart beating weakly in his chest. Three beats and then it stopped. He was dead.

Hermione slid onto the floor in anguish. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she cried for Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, the boy she hated more than any other. In his short life, he'd had no one. No real friends, nobody that truly cared for him aside from his mother. He'd never be able to get a job, to fall in love and get married, to have children of his own. He'd never been able to have a normal life and experience the joys that most people take for granted.

A short time later, Hermione stood, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She didn't want to look at him, but she couldn't help herself.

His face was already losing the little color it had, and his lips had a tinge of blue. She reached out with a surprisingly steady hand and brushed the white-blond hair off his forehead. He was cold to the touch. Her fingers trailed down his sculpted cheek. _He looks like an angel_ she thought, subconsciously smiling. What would Harry and Ron say if they knew that she had just associated their archrival with a pure, innocent angel?

She leaned forward, her honey curls falling over his face. Her lips softly brushed his forehead.

"I forgive you, Draco," she whispered softly. With that, she straightened and slowly left the room, her eyes still bright with tears.


End file.
